Between The Worlds
by Ann Brill White
Summary: Aeryn and Zhaan help Crichton recover from his ordeal in the Aurora Chair.


#  Between the Worlds

##  By Ann Brill White

_A troubled soul knows no peace, a dark and poisoned pool_   
_Of liberty now lost, a pawn, an oppressor's tool._   
_Go my heart be strong, a guide when eyes grow dim_   
_To ease proud death with empty words, when I know there's life within._

- Loreena McKennitt,_ Breaking the Silence_   


  


Gilina was dead. The realization hit John Crichton like a punch in the stomach. He took her hand and held it for a long time. _She died to save me..._ he thought over and over again. _I couldn't tell her that I didn't love her. It's my fault.._. He felt empty, gutted, like a lemon that had been squeezed to make lemonade - a hollow shell of a man. Someone, probably Zhaan, put a blanket over his shoulders. It barely registered through his pain. He remained where he was, stroking Gilina's hair and staring blankly at the brave, young Peacekeeper technician that had sacrificed her life for him. 

"She's gone, John," Zhaan said quietly as she put her hand on his shoulder. "There's nothing more we can do. You need to rest now." 

"No." His tone made Zhaan back off. He turned to look at Stark, his not-so-crazy cellmate from the Peacekeeper base. "Can't you do something? I mean, down on the planet you..." 

Stark shook his head sorrowfully. "I'm sorry, my friend. I did all that I could for her. She was brave and resourceful, but it was her time. For all that I can do, I am not a god." 

"Come, John. Let's go back to your room so you can sleep." This time, he didn't resist her urging. He stood and let her guide him out the door of Moya's medical bay. As the door opened, he saw his other friends, his adopted family, waiting for him. A wordless question passed between all of them - _was Gilina alive?_ Zhaan silently shook her head in response. 

Chiana was the first to reach him. She put her arms around him and searched for the right words to say. Finding none, she just released him. It didn't cut though his numbness. The girl turned away, not really knowing what to do next. He couldn't respond to the looks from D'Argo and Rygel, either. His eyes sought another occupant of the room. She was standing apart from the others, holding back tenuously like she always did. John walked toward her, and she met him halfway. Aeryn took his hand and looked into his eyes. Her face was as white as Chiana's hair, and the dark circles under her eyes looked like bruises. They regarded each other for a moment, not saying a word. "Thank you," he finally whispered and kissed her hand gallantly. 

Aeryn smiled weakly. "No. Thank _you_," she replied just as quietly. 

He turned away and released her hand. He felt a stronger hand on his shoulder - D'Argo. "I know what you're going through. I understand, John," the big Luxan said gently. John let D'Argo lead him back to his quarters that he'd never expected to be in again. The two men walked in silence. Only the whirr of a trailing DRD could be heard. D'Argo's presence was actually comforting in a strange way. With grief-stricken logic, John realized that he now had more in common with D'Argo than ever before. They reached his quarters, and John sat down on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at nothing. After a few moments, he realized that the Luxan was watching him. "There are many things that one warrior will do for an wounded comrade. Undressing them is not on that list." 

"What? Oh," Crichton shook himself out of his shock. "Yeah, I guess so." Normally, he'd have made some kind of joke about it. But not now. He wasn't in a joking mood. John removed the Peacekeeper uniform with the stiffness of an old man while D'Argo gazed intently at something in the opposite corner. "You can leave now," he told D'Argo after he'd stripped down to his underwear. "I'm just going to get into bed. You don't have to stay." 

"I'm not leaving. Zhaan asked me to watch over you." 

"So I'm stuck with you being a mother hen?" 

"Would you rather have Rygel?" 

John reconsidered. "Okay, you win," he shrugged and pulled the cover up over his head. 

"You are a true warrior, Crichton. Sleep well, my friend," D'Argo answered. 

_I doubt it,_ John thought. _Don't you people understand that I just want to be alone right now?_ He needed time to sort everything out. He closed his eyes and forced himself to think of a place back on Earth where he'd always felt safe. He'd gone to that place with the help of Stark, back on the planet after the worst of the torture. As John faded off into blessed oblivion, he wished that he could stay in that safe place forever. 

* * *

Aeryn Sun watched D'Argo lead John down the corridor in silence. The touch of John's lips on her hand still resonated. Her emotions were slamming back from the place she had stored them while she was trying to get them out of the Gammak base. She'd been jealous of Gilina and her place in John's heart. She owed the Technician a debt of gratitude for saving her life and John's. However, when Gilina died, Aeryn knew that she'd lost John, too. She didn't blame him. After seeing what he had been through - what _her people_ had done to him - she was surprised that he could even look at her. Aeryn had never been ashamed of being a Peacekeeper - until today. 

"Who the _yotz_ is that?" Rygel interrupted her by growling imperiously. She looked up to see the Hynerian hovering menacingly around the other being that she'd rescued from the base. 

"My name is Stark," the masked man introduced himself to Rygel and Chiana. 

"He was Crichton's cellmate," Aeryn added. "He helped us escape." 

"That's lovely, but can we trust him? He may be a Peacekeeper spy," Rygel grumbled. 

Zhaan gave the little Hynerian a look that would probably melt his chair mechanisms. "I will vouch for him," she said, interposing herself between Rygel and Stark. 

"As will I," Aeryn added in her most deadly tone. "Rygel, I am _NOT_ in the mood for your antics," she warned. "You weren't down there. I was. You would think that someone who was Durka's favorite victim would have a little more sense." 

Rygel was actually taken aback. She'd scored a major point on the little rodent. He muttered something that sounded like "bloody Peacekeeper bitch", but backed down. 

She put her hand on her pistol and looked murderously at the Hynerian. "Another crack like that and you'll be eating plasma," she warned the Hynerian. 

. "Aeryn," Zhaan said quietly, "I need your assistance with something in the medical bay. Chiana, can you take Stark to my quarters, please? I will be there soon. Thank you." _Bless Zhaan for diffusing the situation before I drew on Rygel_, thought Aeryn. 

Stark, for his part, looked a little confused by the whole scene. He stepped around Zhaan, who was still blocking his path. He took Zhaan's hand and smiled. "Thank you. We have much to talk about, you and I," he said to her. "You are a holy woman?" 

"Not anymore," Zhaan confessed and pulled her hand away. 

"I am... _was_ a holy man among my people. I would like to compare notes with you later." 

Zhaan smiled. "I would like that very much. But first, I need to speak with Aeryn alone." She turned back toward the door, then turned back. "Is there anything else that you require?" 

"No, I am fine," Stark answered, then followed Chiana down the hall, with Rygel trailing behind them protectively. Zhaan motioned with her head toward the medical bay, and Aeryn joined her. Gilina's body was still on the bed, covered with a blanket. Inadvertantly, Aeryn's eyes were drawn to the shape under the blanket. 

The Delvian scooted a DRD out of the room, then shut the door. "How are you doing, my dear?" she asked. "And don't give me the standard answer of 'I'm fine.' I can see that you're not. Lift up your shirt. I need to examine your wound." 

Resistance was futile. She raised her shirt, and Zhaan's hands probed the angry red scar of her knife wound. Aeryn winced when Zhaan touched the area where her paraphoral nerve was. The other woman continued to probe the area as Aeryn gritted her teeth. The touch felt white-hot, like a plasma burn. "As I suspected," Zhaan finally spoke, "the nerve is healing, but you've re-injured the surrounding muscles. John isn't the only one who needs rest right now." 

"I can't. I've got to help Pilot with Moya's baby," she answered. 

"Not now," Zhaan chided firmly. "I have another question for you." She looked over at the blanket-covered body on the table. "I spent many years in Peacekeeper prisons, but I don't know that much about your culture. I suppose that I was concentrating on my own spiritual needs, or that I didn't want to know about my captors. I know nothing about your beliefs, or how to prepare the body of one of your people for its final journey." 

Aeryn was taken aback. "Our beliefs? What do you mean?" 

"The afterlife," Zhaan explained, as if Aeryn was a child. "Where your kind believes that the soul goes after the body dies. Funeral customs?" 

"Oh..." Aeryn stammered. "We don't believe in an afterlife. Once you die, you die. That's all. As for funerals... I'm not sure. Bodies that are intact at death are cremated or sent into space. Personal effects were given to members of the deceased's unit, or were sent back to High Command. I don't know if Sebaceans in the Colonies do anything differently." She looked down at Gilina's body. "Although, it seems very impersonal in her case." 

"I agree," Zhaan nodded. "I suppose that it makes some kind of sense. Taking a life, or giving one up, is easier if you don't have to worry about a soul." 

Aeryn was stunned, but she did admit that the Delvian had a point. "Normally, I'd be offended by that. But after what I saw today..." she let her voice trail off, shuddered involuntarily, and looked away from Zhaan. The other woman put a comforting hand on Aeryn's arm. "I wanted to kill Crais, to punish him for all of the pain that he'd caused me - caused all of us. But I couldn't. So, I turned the chair up all the way, and made him face all of it." 

"I wouldn't worry too much about Crais," Zhaan smiled ruefully. "He blames others for his own mistakes. I'm sure that this will be one more example of how he has been wronged." 

Aeryn allowed herself a slight smile. "Maybe he'll actually face up to his mistakes." 

"Goddess forbid," Zhaan rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. "However, that doesn't answer my question. What do we do about Gilina?" 

"Use your discretion," Aeryn answered. "I'm sure that whatever you do will honor her memory more than anything I could suggest." 

"I will do that," Zhaan answered. "Now, you go and get some rest." The priestess embraced her, and Aeryn felt some of her confusion lift temporarily. "You've earned it." 

Aeryn started to say something, but thought better of it. She left Zhaan to put the medical bay to rights, and walked toward her own quarters. She removed the heavy leather jacket that she was wearing, and stripped down to her underclothes. Then, Aeryn took down her hair and brushed the knots out of it. She stared into her mirror for a long time, trying to see her way to clarity. "This isn't working," she muttered to herself. Putting the brush down, she heard faint music coming from outside in the hall. She pulled her clothes back on, and followed the music down the hall to John's quarters. D'Argo had his back to the door and was playing that stringed instrument that he'd worked so hard to build. John was sleeping fitfully, but the music seemed to be calming him. Aeryn debated whether to go in or not, then decided against it. She walked on down the hall. Rygel's snores echoed out of his room like a sonic blast. No matter - Rygel was the last person on the ship that she wanted to talk to. Stopping at Zhaan's door, she heard the priestess deep in conversation with Stark. The two of them were discussing herbal remedies or something like that. She moved on to Chiana's room and peered in. The girl was sleeping soundly. No surprise there. It wasn't every girl who could be a midwife for a Leviathan. Chiana looked much more vulnerable in sleep, when her tough mask was stripped away. Aeryn almost envied the girl. She left Chiana's doorway silently. That left one more person, the one that Aeryn felt closest to. Without even thinking, she made her way up to see Pilot. 

Naturally, Pilot was busy helping Moya through the first few hours of her child's life. However, he looked up and smiled when she approached. "How may I help you, Aeryn Sun?" 

"How are Moya and the baby?" she asked. 

"She is recovering from the birth process, but is very worried that her son is not normal." 

"The Peacekeepers have a lot to answer for, don't we?" Aeryn's eyes wandered to the viewscreen, which showed the odd little ship hovering near Moya's underside. 

"We? I have stopped thinking of you as a Peacekeeper long ago," Pilot reassured her. 

"But I was," she replied. "I don't know who I am any more, but I know what I'm not." 

Pilot looked down at her while his four arms continued to manipulate Moya's systems. "You are my friend, Aeryn Sun," he said as if it was the simplest thing in the universe. 

For a moment, she saw herself as Pilot saw her - a kindred spirit, a companion. She was glad that someone on this ship didn't see her as the enemy anymore. "Thank you, Pilot," she smiled up at him in response. She sat on the edge of the circular control panel that surrounded Pilot. He lifted one of his arms and put it around her, and she leaned back into him. Aeryn allowed herself to relax, and she finally drifted off to sleep. 

* * *

A sharp, clawed hand shook Aeryn awake. She shook her head, momentarily wondering where she was. She was tucked under one of Pilot's four arms. "Aeryn Sun, wake up," Pilot continued to shake her. "We have a problem." 

She was immediately alert. "Wha... what? Is Moya all right? The baby?" 

"No, it's Crichton. I was concerned, so I sent a DRD to check on him. He's not responding, even to a mild electrical shock." 

_That's the last thing he needs_, Aeryn bit her tongue to keep from saying. "Who's on watch down there?" She almost didn't need to ask. Rygel's snores were coming through loud and clear. "Frell him!" she cursed and jumped down from the console. "Wake Zhaan and tell her to get to John's room immediately. I'll meet her down there." Aeryn sprinted out of the control room and down through Moya to the crew quarters. As she rounded the corner, she felt a stitch in her side - the paraphoral nerve again. She ignored it and ran faster. Her side felt like it was on fire, and she was gasping for breath. Aeryn grabbed the bulkhead to brake her speed as she rounded the corner into John's room and almost tripped over the DRD with the bandaged antenna that had taken a liking to Crichton. The DRD was shocking Rygel, who was batting it away. 

Zhaan was already in John's room, trying to shake him awake. He wasn't responding. She lifted his eyelid and shone a beam of light into his eye. "Pupils are unresponsive. I'm barely getting any pulse or respiration. He's not responding to external stimuli. I'm afraid that he's slipped into a coma," Zhaan explained sorrowfully. "There's nothing I can do." As she spoke, D'Argo and Chiana both tried to get through the door at the same time. D'Argo let the girl go first. 

"Rygel!" Aeryn snapped. "What were you doing asleep on watch?" She reached down and pulled him out of his chair by the scruff of his neck. A white-hot burst of pain reminded her that she shouldn't be lifting heavy objects, and she dropped him like a stone. 

"It's not my fault! He was sleeping like a baby! I just closed my eyes for a bit..." Rygel sputtered and tried to explain. D'Argo snarled and started towards Rygel with murder in his eyes. 

"Wait," Zhaan cautioned. "No one is responsible. No one _here_, anyway," she said. Stark was bending over Crichton, with his hands on the Human's head. Aeryn could swear that she saw something _glowing_ under that metal mask that their guest wore. "It may be his species' way of reacting to intense trauma. It's hard to say what Human physiology requires," Zhaan guessed. 

Stark looked up, and the glow behind his mask was gone. "It's worse than that," he said quietly. "It's hard to explain to the uninitiated," he looked at Zhaan. "His soul has left his body and is wandering in the spirit world. Very likely he refuses to return to his physical body." 

Aeryn was confused. She looked around, and saw that the others were as well. All except Zhaan, who had a horrified look on her face. D'Argo spoke up and asked, "So, you're saying that this is something he needs to work out in his own mind?" 

"I cannot say for sure. What I can tell you is that the connection between his spirit and body has been damaged," Stark responded. "His soul has retreated too deep to find its way back." 

"What's the worst-case scenario?" D'Argo asked. 

The masked man looked down at John with a sorrowful look. "Worst-case? I don't know. He could linger like this indefinitely, in a state of living death..." 

As soon as Stark said the words, Aeryn felt her lungs constrict and the blood drain from her face. Unbidden, the memory of her own close brush with the Living Death appeared in her mind. "No... no... no..." she muttered in denial. She felt D'Argo's strong hand on her shoulder, comforting her. She started to shake, and the Luxan tried to calm her down. 

"What did I say?" Stark asked, honestly confused. 

"Peacekeepers are extremely sensitive to heat," Zhaan filled in their guest. "Their bodies shut down and eventually they become comatose, then die. They call it the Living Death. This is the only death that they fear. Aeryn had a close call with it shortly after she joined us." 

"I see," Stark nodded with a trace of ironic humor. "I wish I'd known that when I was imprisoned. I always wondered why it was so cold in that cell." He left Crichton's side and walked toward Aeryn and D'Argo. She felt his hand on her back, and suddenly the terror subsided. "I am sorry for my poor choice of words, my dear," he apologized. 

Aeryn composed herself and pushed away from D'Argo. "Thank you," she said to both the Luxan and their guest. "I guess I'm a little sensitive about that subject." Rygel snorted. 

"Stark," Zhaan interrupted, "what caused this? What happened down there? I was in Unity with John, and I know that it would take a lot to push him over the edge like this." 

Stark struggled for the words. "It was... difficult for him. John's alien brain waves presented a challenge to Scorpius and his friend..." 

_So, that's what I did to Crais_, Aeryn thought. _I'm no better than Scorpius._ A mocking voice that sounded remarkably like Crais echoed in her mind. _But what did you expect?_ _You're one of us. You can't escape what you are_. 

"Excuse me, Zhaan?" Stark's face was suddenly hopeful, "What is this... Unity?" 

The priestess looked confused. "It is a total merging of spirits, where each participant can learn from the other. Before I renounced the priesthood, John helped me regain a piece of what had been stolen from me by a dishonorable priest. I would have been a savage otherwise." 

"Do you think that you could do this again?" the stranger asked. Everyone got very still. 

"No," she said flatly. "I cannot." 

"Cannot - or will not?" D'Argo grumbled. 

"What you are proposing - what we call a soul retrieval - is something that only the highest levels of Pa'us have the ability to do. Even before I renounced my calling, I was nowhere near that level. It is very dangerous to both people involved. I am sorry, but this is something that I do not have the training for." 

"I can't believe I'm hearing this!" Chiana hissed. "Each one of us owes Crichton our lives! He wouldn't give up on us because he didn't know how to do it! He'd be the first one to tell you to do it. You people make me sick!" The girl gave Zhaan a scathing look. 

"Chiana's right," Aeryn added. "I won't let him die - not like this." She turned to Stark. "What can I do?" 

Stark looked at her calmly but intently. She felt as if his one eye was boring down into the depths of her psyche. It wasn't threatening, but it made her uncomfortable nonetheless. "You have the connection with him," he muttered. 

"Me?" Aeryn looked at him, confused. 

"Zhaan has the power to find Crichton, but you have the connection to him to bring him back." Stark grasped her hand. "You and John are lovers?" 

She blushed and stammered as the rest of her shipmates looked at her in disbelief. Chiana looked especially disappointed. "It was only once," Aeryn confessed. "When I thought he went home, and I went after him..." her voice trailed off as she remembered the night, and their tender, passionate lovemaking while the rain drummed on the roof. "We swore when we got back that it would never happen again. And it hasn't." She stared at each of them to drive home her point. 

"No one is accusing you, Aeryn," Zhaan explained as she crossed the room to them. "There is one problem, however. I gave up my power. I am unable to do what is required." 

Stark tilted her chin up to look into his one eye. "Power is power. You have renounced it, but it hasn't renounced you. All you have to do is summon it again, and it will be there." 

"You can do it," D'Argo encouraged. "You have to." 

Zhaan thought for a moment, then looked at Aeryn, who nodded in silent affirmation. "Very well. I will do my best," Zhaan spoke for both of them. "Goddess help us." 

"Attention," Pilot's voice came over the comms system. "The command carrier is using thermal sensors to search for us. I'm moving Moya deeper into the asteroid field." 

"Good, Pilot," D'Argo agreed. "Chiana, Rygel and I are on our way up to command." He nodded his head toward the door. Rygel hovered his thronesled and took off toward the door. D'Argo watched him go, then turned to Zhaan and Aeryn and said, "Good luck." 

Zhaan put her arms around the Luxan. "Keep us safe, D'Argo," she told him. "We'll take care of Crichton." He released Zhaan and nodded to Rygel. The Dominar started to say something, but was silenced by a look from D'Argo. Chiana defiantly stayed right where she was. With a last look at his comatose friend D'Argo left the room with Rygel hovering behind him. The priestess then turned to Stark. "Will you stay to help us?" she asked. 

The masked man shook his head sadly. "It is safer for you if I leave. The Peacekeepers may be able to detect my higher energy signature. You will be safer without my presence." 

"You're just going to leave me and Zhaan to do this ourselves?" Aeryn asked. 

"Trust each other, and yourselves. You will succeed." 

Aeryn looked over at Zhaan. "What about a ship? If you take a pod, it will be detected." 

He smiled enigmatically. "I have my own ways of dealing with trackers. I will not be detected. Do not worry about me, Aeryn Sun. I will be all right." He reached out and touched her face gently. "Remember that he loves you. That is the key to bringing him back." 

"I will," she whispered. She was unsettled by his ability to read her feelings. 

"Chiana, please take Stark to the transport hangar," the Delvian asked the young worman. Chiana gave Stark a hesitant look, then nodded. "Thank you, Stark," Zhaan bowed to him in the traditional Delvian leave-taking. 

"Come on, mask-boy," Chiana shook her head toward the door. "The sooner you get off this ship, the better your chances will be." Stark took one last look at John, then followed the girl out of the door. 

Zhaan took a deep breath. "Let us begin," she said as she walked to the side of John's bed. She nodded for Aeryn to go to the other side. The two women faced each other over his very still body. "I'm not quite as sure of this as Stark was, but it is our only option. Normally, a Priest would have an anchor to maintain the connection to the physical world. However, you will need guidance, since you are unskilled in travelling in the spirit world. I will need to be both your guide and anchor. I think you should know that I have never done this before." 

Aeryn looked into the priestess' blue-on-blue eyes. "Well, neither have I. I don't even believe in this spirit world. But, I am willing to try, for John's sake. Let's do it." 

Zhaan took hold of Aeryn's hands and placed them to each side of her own head, just above the ears. Then, she did placed her own hands on Aeryn's head in the same position. "Close your eyes and clear your mind," she directed. Aeryn shut her eyes and counted her breaths. As she concentrated, she became aware of another presence in her thoughts. Zhaan's mind touched hers. "_Oh, my dear_," she heard the other woman, even though neither of them spoke. "_I understand now. You are not responsible for the actions of other Peacekeepers, only yourself_." Aeryn gasped. At the same time, she saw Zhaan's crime - the murder of her mentor and lover. She saw Zhaan's growing love for D'Argo, and her previous Unity with John. Aeryn shared the memory of her night with John. Zhaan encouraged her, and Aeryn opened more of her mind to her friend. _"Very good. Now for the hard part_." Each woman extended a hand each to John's head. She felt Zhaan's puzzlement. "_We should have the connection_," she said in a voice that sounded like both hers and Zhaan's. _"I don't understand_..." 

Aeryn concentrated, and saw a thin, silver thread leading from John's lifeless body back into a bright light, like starlight. "_There_," she nodded. 

The two women, working as one, followed the thread into the light. For a moment, she was almost blinded by the glaring intensity. It was like sunlight reflected in glass directly into her eyes. They emerged from the light into a warm, green space. A gentle breeze caressed her hair. Aeryn looked up. They were at the foot of a small hill. She knew instinctively that they were on Crichton's home planet, Earth. Aeryn shaded her eyes and looked into the distance. The silhouettes of various tall objects stood on the horizon. They were launch towers for spacecraft that resembled John's shuttle, only larger. As she turned, Aeryn saw what had caused the bright light. They were standing in front of some kind of [memorial][1]. 

Zhaan was pleasurably caressing the green, well-manicured ground cover that they were lying on. "I had no idea that Earth was so... vibrant, so green," the Delvian remarked. 

"This is the key," Aeryn observed and walked toward the memorial. It was a large mirror, inscribed with eighteen names and dates. She walked around it, and saw the mechanism behind it. The mirror was built to constantly follow the movement of Earth's single yellow sun and reflect it. "Amazing," she muttered. 

"_This is dedicated to those Americans who lost their lives in the exploration of space_," Zhaan read. "They must value scientific exploration a great deal to build such a memorial." 

Aeryn joined her. "It's a solar mirror," she said. "That's why the light was so bright." 

"This place must have special significance to John," Zhaan observed. "I don't feel him here now. Do you?" 

She concentrated. No sign of John, but she felt a familiar presence approaching their position. A tall, lanky, gray-haired man appeared at the top of the bowl. He walked toward the memorial with a terrible sadness and loneliness in his eyes. "That's John's father," Aeryn explained to her companion. "One of the aliens had taken his form when John and I were on that ship. He's a good man." 

"I wouldn't expect anything less," Zhaan agreed. "I wonder if..." Aeryn felt Zhaan touch the man's mind. It was a gentle caress, but enough for them to see what he was visualizing. John's father jumped. "Interesting," Zhaan obeserved. "He felt our minds touch his for a moment." 

"You touched his mind to see if he was thinking of a place or event involving his son?" 

Zhaan chuckled. "For someone who doesn't believe in the spirit world, you learn quickly." 

"So, what are you waiting for?" 

"I wanted to see if I could get more of an impression. However, I don't want to upset the poor man any more than he already is. I think I can find John with what I got." Zhaan focused her thoughts on the image that she had gotten from John's father. The two women were absorbed into the brilliant white light again. 

They emerged on another green, manicured field. This time, the field was long and wide with white chalk lines painted on it. There was no sense of peace here, unlike at the memorial. "Where the frell are we?" Aeryn asked. 

"I suppose that this is a significant event in John's life," Zhaan guessed. They looked up. A group of young men - wearing hard helmets and different-colored uniforms with numbers on the back of them - were fighting over an odd-shaped brown leather object in the center of the field. More young men were on either side of the wide field. Spectators were loudly cheering on the opposing sides. 

"This must be some kind of military training exercise," Aeryn guessed. 

"Either that, or some kind of athletic contest. D'Argo once told me that Luxans use similar rituals to train themselves for battle. This looks a lot more barbaric than I would have expected from people that could build such a beautiful memorial." 

"Not to mention how they treat their females," Aeryn observed drily and pointed out several women of the same age as the men. They were clad in short skirts holding useless balls of fluff in their hands and chanting in unison. A few of the young women went down into splits. 

"It must be some kind of primitive tribal mating ritual," Zhaan agreed. "They may be awaiting the winners of this contest." 

"Emphasis on the word _primitive_. The point is, what is John doing here, and why is it significant?" 

A disembodied voice echoed across the field from speakers mounted on the top of the ampitheater. "_It's fourth and goal at the nine yard line_," the announcer said. Aeryn looked up at a scoreboard. Whoever the two warring factions were, the score appeared to be tied, and time was running out. 

"Something's happening," Aeryn pointed out. "Watch." 

A warrior held the object on the ground, then passed it between his legs to another warrior, while the opposing warriors surged forward. The man with the object took a few steps backwards and looked at his fellows. He lifted the object as if to throw it, but he changed his mind. The warrior tucked the object back into his arms, lowered his head, and ran forward. Another warrior ran in front of him, shoving opposing men out of the way. The man with the object appeared to cross some kind of line just as time ran down to zero. The spectators on one side let out a mighty cheer, as the rest of the warriors from their group swarmed their fellow on the field. "_That's a nine-yard run by quarterback John Crichton! The Mustangs win the Florida state championship!_" the announcer said jubilantly. 

Zhaan and Aeryn looked at each other. "_Crichton?_" they both said at once. Then, Aeryn spotted him - the older version. He had been on the side of the field, obscured by the young men. When they ran onto the field, they had left him exposed. He was staring out at the warriors with a wistful expression on his face. Aeryn and Zhaan walked toward him. 

As the got closer, he registered their presence. "You two?" he asked, looking very annoyed with them. "Can't a guy get any peace around here?" 

"John, you need to come back with us," Zhaan said gently. "I don't know if you're aware of what happened. Your spirit has left your body..." 

"Frell off," he snarled. "I know exactly what I'm doing. I'm not going back." 

Aeryn rolled her eyes in disgust. "I didn't pull you out of that cell so that you could go back and relive a moment of glory in your barbaric adolescent mating rites," she snapped. 

He stared at her with utter hatred. "Don't talk to me about barbaric practices, lady. You see, I've become kind of an expert on how barbaric you Peacekeepers really are. You're all just a bunch of sicko Nazis who get their rocks off by torturing people. And you wonder why I don't want to go back? I'd rather die." 

Aeryn swallowed and accepted the criticism. "You're right," she agreed quietly, then put her hand on his arm. "If it helps, I apologize for your treatment at the hands of my people." 

He stared at her in disbelief, then pushed her away. "Not good enough." 

"John, stop this," Zhaan interjected. "This isn't like you." 

That got his attention. He turned away from Aeryn with a last scathing look. "I'm sorry, Zhaan. I don't have the strength anymore. I want to be with Gilina. Let me die in peace." 

"Wherever Gilina's spirit went, she doesn't need you anymore. We need you." 

"What part of 'no' didn't you understand?" 

Aeryn's temper flared. "Fine. Then Gilina's death meant nothing to you." John stepped backwards, the shock of her words evident on his face. "By retreating to this" - she looked around the arena in disgust - "fantasy world, you're letting Crais and Scorpius win. Gilina will have died for nothing. I hope you're satisfied with that situation, John." 

He stood there, his mouth hanging open in shock. He lifted his arm and pointed at Aeryn silently, then again. "You're a real stone-cold bitch, you know that?" 

"Flattery isn't going to cover up the truth," she retorted. 

"John, Aeryn is right," Zhaan stepped in between them. "If you die, Crais will be getting what he wants. Not directly, but he will see it as a victory nonetheless." 

"Frell Crais," he grumbled. "Do you know what he and his buddy Scorpius put me through? Do you really want to know?" 

"I have a pretty good idea," Aeryn replied. 

"No, you don't," he shot back. "You have no idea." 

Zhaan took his hand. "Show us," she said gently. "Sharing your pain will help you heal." Aeryn reached out and took his other hand. He hesitated. "Don't be afraid," the priestess urged. "We are here for you." Aeryn closed her eyes. Fractured, painful images flooded into her mind as she and Zhaan experienced what John had in the Aurora Chair. He fought to protect Gilina - _and her_ - even as Scorpius was systematically raping his mind. The intensity of the images accelerated as Scorpius discovered that John knew about wormholes. Added to that were other memories, of Crais claiming that he'd captured Moya and her crew, of Stark, and Crais' physical abuse. She was amazed that John hadn't broken under the strain. Then, the final terror, of Scorpius capturing him again, and Gilina's hesitation to shoot Scorpius, which caused her mortal wound. Aeryn had already been in the cockpit of the transport pod by the time that happened. She realized why the whole incident with the base had sickened her. She'd seen horrible things - been the cause of some of them - but it was different when it was someone that you cared about. Strangely, because of her mind-link to Zhaan, Aeryn's only desire was to reach out, to comfort him, to ease his pain. 

The images stopped suddenly. Aeryn opened her eyes. John was on his knees, curled up into a ball. He was violently shaking. Zhaan knelt and put her arms around him. "I understand," she whispered to him. "It's all right. You're not alone in this. We'll all help you." 

"Now you see why I don't want to live anymore," he gasped through the panic and pain. 

Aeryn knelt down beside the other two. She put a tentative hand on his shoulder and rubbed his back. "I know you don't want to live anymore, and I can see why. However, we have something else to show you, before you make a final decision." The priestess met her eyes behind his back, and her question came through the mind-link. Aeryn answered her silent question. 

"Come with us, John," Zhaan encouraged. "You need to see this." 

He looked up at the two women flanking him. His eyes were red-rimmed, hollow, and pain-filled. "Leave me alone," he whispered. 

"If you see what we want to show you, and still want us to leave you alone, we will do so," promised Zhaan. "Please, John. Trust us." He nodded his assent. Aeryn and Zhaan helped him stand, then they used their telepathic link to summon the bright light again. 

The three of them arrived back at the large memorial, but it looked different. A panel on the mirror was covered with a black cloth. Some sort of dais had been erected in front of the memorial. A podium stood on the dais, as well as four chairs. The dais was lined with red, white, and blue bunting. A crowd of people were standing around the dais. Four of them - three men and a woman with shoulder-length blonde hair like Gilina's - stepped up onto the dais. Aeryn recognized John's father among them. A second older man with thinning gray hair and heavier build than John's father stood behind the podium. The sun reflected off of the top of his bald head. John stiffened. "What the...?" he asked. "Dad? D.K.? Alex? What's going on here?" 

"It appears that some kind of ceremony is in progress," Zhaan observed. 

He shook them off and moved closer to the dais. He tried to get the attention of the fourth person, a man about his own age, with a thinner build and curly brown hair that looked like he had tried hard to get it under control. "D.K.? Hey, buddy! I'm right here!" 

The man behind the podium began to speak. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here to honor our fallen comrade, Commander John Crichton, Jr." 

"Hey, wait a minute!" Crichton yelled. "I'm not dead!" 

"As you all know, Commander Crichton's experimental spacecraft disappeared without a trace on its maiden flight. Six months ago, he was declared deceased, even though no remains have been found. The loss of one of our brightest astrophysicists has been an irrepairable blow to the space program. However, that does not compare to the loss of John Crichton the man." 

"I'm not dead!" Crichton waved to the man at the podium. "I'm right here!" 

"Most of the time, I enjoy my work as the President of the [Astronauts Memorial Fund][2]. This is not one of those times. Today, I have the sad task of adding the name of John Crichton, Jr. to this memorial for astronauts who were lost in the line of duty." 

John laughed hysterically. "I don't believe this! I'm at my own frelling funeral! I feel like Tom Sawyer!" Zhaan and Aeryn looked at each other and shrugged at the reference. 

The man on the podium stepped back and uncovered the panel. On it was Crichton's name, with several numbers beneath it. Aeryn assumed that they signified when he was born and died. "No!" John ran forward and examined the panel closer. Then he tried to hit it. His fist passed right through the glass. "You can't do this!" He turned to his father, who was standing and accepting a copy of the panel. "Dad! Tell them I'm not dead!" 

"Thank you," Jack Crichton - oblivious to his son's presence - nodded to the previous speaker. "This past year has been very difficult for me, for all of us. You know, I get the feeling that John is here with us right now. If he was, he would probably be embarrassed by all of this pomp and circumstance..." 

"You got that right, Dad," John interjected. 

"...But I think that he would also be pleased. I want to thank everyone for their support over the past year. I also want to thank the Northwestern University astrophysics department for creating the John Crichton, Jr. Memorial Scholarship. I'm grateful to the American people for their kindness and generosity toward John's family, friends, and colleagues..." As he spoke, he glanced backwards at the man that John had referred to as D.K., who was holding the hand of the blonde woman. The blonde was crying on the young man's shoulder. 

"Alex? I'm right here." John knelt in front of the blonde and tried to caress her cheek. His hand passed through without contact. "Alex?" He turned back toward Zhaan and Aeryn. "What kind of a sick joke is this?" 

"It's not a joke, John. It's happening right now. We were drawn here before we found you," Zhaan explained. 

"But this is all wrong. I'm not dead!" 

"Prove it," Aeryn challenged him. "There's only one way to prove them wrong. Choose to live, to keep searching for a way home. That's the only way you're going to get your name taken off of that memorial." 

He stopped and thought, then turned back around to look at his name on the memorial again. His fingers traced over his name. Then he turned and tried one last time to get his father's attention. "Dad? You've got to believe me, I'm not dead!" It was useless. His father's speech ended, and the assembled throng applauded. 

He jumped off of the dais and walked back through several spectators to where Aeryn and Zhaan were standing. Then, the roar of aircraft engines came from the south. The three watched as four aircraft - Aeryn thought they looked like a primitive version of her Prowler - roared across the sky in formation. One of the aircraft peeled off into a steep climb, leaving a hole in the formation where it had been. It was a haunting scene. John made a strangled sound, and she turned to him. He was looking up at the aircraft formation with a tear running down his cheek. 

"I really am dead to them," he muttered. "What's the use? I might as well be dead..." 

Aeryn looked at him with shock. She caressed the tear away from his cheek and looked into his blue eyes. "Don't you get it? Don't you know how much we need you? How much _I_ need you?" She took his hands in hers, and lowered the barrier between her minds and John's, the part that she'd briefly shown Zhaan earlier. She showed him her grudging respect when he managed to hide the fork in his sleeve from that first meal...her instinct to speak up for him to Crais that cost her career...the decision to ask him to kill her should she succumb to the Living Death...the way he stood by her when Namtar had violated her with his experiment...how bereft she was when he had been missing for a quarter-cycle...and so on. Finally, she showed him their night together on what he thought was Earth. How she'd experienced feelings that she'd never felt before, and how she treasured that memory. She wanted it to be the last thing that she remembered before she died. "Come back to me, John," she asked him. "I don't want to lose you again. Not like this." 

He hesitated and looked back one more time at the reflective memorial with his father standing before it. "I had no idea, Aeryn." He turned back toward her and smiled sadly. "I'm sorry. You're right. I want to live." 

"You've made the right decision," Zhaan agreed. Aeryn and Zhaan both wrapped their arms around him, and Zhaan summoned the brilliant white light again. 

* * *

Aeryn returned to consciousness with a jolt. The first thing that told her that she was back was the throbbing of the bandaged knife wound in her side. She looked at Zhaan. The priestess's skin looked grayish-blue, rather than its usual brilliant hue. They both looked down at the man whose head was between their hands. He was fighting his way back to consciousness. _What if it didn't work?_ She thought. On an impulse, Aeryn gently stroked his whisker-stubbled cheek. "John? Can you hear me?" 

His eyelids fluttered, and he looked at her with hollow, bloodshot blue eyes. "Will somebody please get me a beer?" he asked weakly. 

Zhaan bent over John and began to examine him. "Get some water," the Delvian ordered. Aeryn went into the small bathroom in John's quarters, found the cup that he kept there, and filled it. She returned to his side. John was sitting up in bed while Zhaan was running a medical scanner over his body. "Thank you, Aeryn," she said. Aeryn sat on the edge of the bed and held the cup out to John. "Drink it slowly," the priestess advised. "You're dehydrated. If you drink too quickly, you'll throw up." 

He took the cup from Aeryn and took a mouthful, then closed his eyes and swallowed painfully. He coughed, then took another drink. "Thank you," he whispered. "Both of you. I wasn't thinking clearly," he admitted. 

"We know," answered Zhaan. She finished her examination. "There's no serious physical trauma, other than some contusions. However, you need rest, John. We all do," she said with a pointed look at Aeryn. 

"No offense, Zhaan, but you look like I feel," he half-joked. "You need to rest, too." 

"I will," she assured him. "But first, I have some things I need to meditate on. If you'll both excuse me." She kissed his forehead. "I'll be in my quarters if anyone should need me." 

Aeryn and John silently watched her go. She felt him put his hand over hers. They locked eyes for a moment. "I should probably let you get some sleep," she began. 

"Aeryn...," he whispered huskily, "please stay." She couldn't leave him, not like this. Not now. She looked into his haunted eyes and removed her hand from his grasp. He was shaking. A single tear ran down his cheek. Aeryn reached out to wipe it away, and put her arms around him. John made a wordless sound - somewhere between a whimper and a moan - and buried his face in her shoulder. She held him tightly as huge, racking sobs convulsed his back muscles and made her hair wet with his tears. Aeryn had never had to comfort anyone before, and she didn't quite know what to do. She remembered what he had done for her when she was recovering from Namtar's experiment, and did the same. She held him and rubbed his back while he dealt with the trauma in his own way. Zhaan must have shared some of herself, the nurturing part that knew how to comfort, with her during the mind-link. She mentally thanked Zhaan for that gift as she held him. 

Eventually, his crying subsided and he got quiet. He sat up straight and took both her hands in his. "I'm sorry, Aeryn..." he whispered. 

"For what?" she responded, confused. 

"For falling apart like that." 

"I believe the words you used once were 'don't mention it,'" she smiled at him. "Now, lay back and go to sleep. I'll be here. You won't be alone." He laid back down on the pillow, and gently pulled her down with him. She was a little surprised. It took some maneuvering, but they both managed to fit onto the narrow bed. He still smelled of the dank cell, as well as the curious Human odor of stale perspiration that she couldn't quite fathom yet. She wrapped her body around his in a protective gesture, then stroked his hair. 

They held each other in silence for a long time. Slowly, she felt his tension slip away and his breathing get shallower. Then, he stiffened again. "Promise me something?" he asked. 

"I'll do my best," she answered. 

"If it looks like I'm going to be captured again, please kill me. I'd rather die than go through that again," he buried his face in her shoulder and shuddered. 

Aeryn kissed his forehead. "I hope I never have to, but I promise." He seemed to be satisfied with her answer, because he relaxed again. Within a few microts, he had fallen into a fitful sleep. She drifted off a few moments later, still listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat. 

* * *

On the terrace, Zhaan sat naked and stared out the window. The cold air felt good on her skin, even though she was chilled inwardly. She needed to meditate, but her mind was clouded with too many painful thoughts. They had almost lost John today - which is something that she had promised the Goddess that she would never allow. As Zhaan quieted her mind, she looked outward into the black void of space. The stars shone brighter than usual. Soon, they turned into small points of light that were part of a greater web. One of the things that she had learned upon her ascention to the Ninth Level was the ability to see the warp and weft of the Great Web of the Universe. The Goddess sometimes worked in mysterious ways - including tweaking the thread of a man who had been born on a distant, primitive world called Earth. 

"Beautiful, isn't it?" a woman's voice behind her made Zhaan jump and turn around. She met Gilina Renaez's gentle brown eyes. Gilina - or rather her spirit - was clothed in a thin, white gauzy material. "I've been waiting for you." 

"Why me?" Zhaan asked. 

"Do you think any of the others would be able to See?" Gilina smiled. The little Peacekeeper tech did have a point. "I need you to give John a message for me." 

"I do not think that is a wise idea right now," Zhaan argued. "He is emotionally very fragile. He wanted to follow you into death." 

"I know," she agreed. "I watched you and Officer Sun pull him back. Thank you." 

Zhaan regarded the spirit with a less critical eye. "What do you want me to say to him?" 

Gilina's spirit smiled wistfully. "I chose to do what I did, to make sure that you got away safely. Even though it meant my death. It was my decision, not his. John needs to forgive himself, and to go on with his life. I want him to be happy. Please tell him that, Zhaan." 

"I will," Zhaan agreed. She reached out to take Gilina's hand, but the image was already fading. "Thank you for everything that you did, Gilina," Zhaan called after her. The spirit of the young woman was fading back into the starlight. Zhaan emerged from her meditation, and began to prepare Gilina's body. 

* * *

Crichton awoke slowly and reluctantly from a nightmare-filled sleep. His butt was hanging over the edge of the bed and was exposed to the chilly air. He opened his eyes and noticed a telltale long, black hair on the pillow. "What the... _Aeryn_?" he asked. He scooted back into the center, which was surprisingly warm. Every muscle in his body screamed with pain from the slight movement. He closed his eyes and groaned. 

Aeryn stuck her head out of his bathroom, concern written all over her face. "John? Are you all right?" 

"Yeah, I'm okay. Although I'd like to get the license plate of the truck that hit me." 

Her brows knitted and she shook her head in confusion. "You are the strangest being I've ever met," she smiled as she walked out of the bathroom wearing one of his shirts - and very little else. He was so physically and emotionally exhausted that his body didn't even react. "You're looking better," she observed, "considering that you were close to death." 

"Same to you. How long was I out?" 

"Twelve arns, more or less. If Pilot hadn't sent a DRD to check on you, you probably would have died." 

"I wanted to die. But you and Zhaan wouldn't let me," he replied with awe. He was still amazed at what they had done to pull him back. It also made being around Aeryn a lot more awkward. He wanted to talk to her, but he didn't know how to broach the subject. 

She walked over and sat on the bed next to him. "When you're ready, there's something that we need to discuss," she began hesitantly. 

"Look, if it's about what you shared with me..." 

"No," she interrupted. "It's about Gilina. Zhaan felt that it was appropriate that we give her some kind of funeral. She said something about 'giving you closure', whatever that means. We will begin whenever you are ready." 

He closed his eyes and absorbed the pain. "That would be... appropriate," he agreed. "Give me an arn to get a shower and dressed, okay?" 

She smiled gently and put her hand on his leg. "We'll be on the terrace," she told him. Then, to his surprise, she reached over and kissed his cheek. She stood and walked toward the door. Before she left, Aeryn turned back to him. "What happened... what I showed you in the spirit world... please don't mention it to the others," she asked. 

"Once we're out of danger, we'll need to talk," he replied. "But not now." 

"Agreed. A long talk," she affirmed, then walked out of his quarters. He watched her go with a mixture of sadness and gratitude. 

John stood in the shower for longer than necessary. He repeatedly washed and let the scalding hot water pour over him, hoping to cleanse his soul along with his body. He couldn't help it - every time he closed his eyes, he saw the flashes from the Aurora chair. Finally, the hot water ran out and he turned off the shower. He'd surely hear complaints from someone about using up all of the hot water, but he really didn't care right now. He stepped out of the stall into the chilly air. It pulled him back to reality. He toweled off and went toward the basin where he shaved. Soon after he'd arrived in this part of the galaxy, John had been forced to learn to shave himself the old-fashioned way - with soap and a sharp knife. It wasn't the first time that he wished that he'd moved his electric razor from his locker on the _Endeavor_ to _Farscape 1_. He soaped up his face and picked up the knife. Its sharp edge caught the light. _It would be so easy_, he thought as he lifted the knife to his neck. Immediately, he slammed the door shut on that thought. His hands shook as he put the knife down. _No way_, he thought. _Aeryn and Zhaan were right - it's not a solution_. He waited until he stopped shaking, then began to shave again. The mere physical act was enough to help him clear his mind. 

John knew what was happening. _Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder_, his Psych 101 professor had called it. They'd looked at case studies of prisoners of war, victims of violent crime, and disaster survivors to learn about their effects on the human psyche. Knowing what was happening didn't really make it any easier to deal with when it actually happened to you. One thing that he had managed to learn in his Psych class was that the human psyche was incredibly resilient. Horrible things may have happened, but the survivors didn't let the traumatic event beat them permanently._ I'm damned if I'm going to let Scorpy get the better of me again_, he thought. 

He pulled on a clean pair of underwear and t-shirt. He noticed that everything in his drawer was in somewhat of a jumble - it must have been Chiana's turn to do laundry the last time. That brought on another flashback from the base. Thank God for Chiana. If she hadn't forced him to take her along, he'd probably be dead right now - or worse. He shook himself out of the flashback and pulled on the rest of his clothes. It was time to face Gilina's funeral. 

The rest of the crew was already assembled on the terrace by the time he arrived. As he stepped into the room, he was practically knocked over by an explosion of gray and white. Chiana leapt into his arms and planted a wet kiss on his lips. He felt her impact with every sore muscle in his body. "Whoa, Pip! Take it easy!" He gently pushed her away. The girl looked disappointed, so he hugged her stiffly. "You did good down there, kiddo," he encouraged. "Real good." 

"Given a few more arns, I'd have had the entire base eating out of the palm of my hand," Chiana bragged. "Not that I'd have wanted them to. Peacekeepers have a rather limited definition of fun. No offense," she said and glanced over at Aeryn. 

"None taken," the other woman grinned. Aeryn looked very different from the woman who had left his quarters a short time ago. She was in a lieutenant's full-dress uniform with all of the trimmings. Her hair was hanging free down her shoulders, and she wasn't wearing her customary sidearm. She made him feel under-dressed. 

Zhaan was also dressed in an ornate robe similar to the one that she had left in the Delvian temple where she had renounced the priesthood. She smiled gently at him as she touched his arm lightly. "How are you, John?" she asked. 

"Better," he answered, "but still kind of shaky." 

D'Argo interrupted their conversation by coming up and giving John a Luxan bear hug. "I am pleased to see you alive, Crichton," he said exuberantly. A fresh bolt of pain went through John's back as D'Argo thumped him between the shoulder blades. 

"Uh... thanks, big guy," he gasped. "Can you let go, before you squeeze me to death?" 

D'Argo released him and looked sheepish. "Sorry. I forgot that you don't heal as quickly." 

The whirr of Rygel's thronesled got his attention. The Hynerian was in his full royal regalia. "Spanky!" Crichton joked. "You're lookin' good, your Highness." 

"Zhaan told us to wear our best for this 'memorial service', as if I needed any encouragement," he puffed. 

John lowered his voice and said, "Thank you, Rygel." 

"For what?" 

"When I was," he stopped for a moment and shook involuntarily, "when I was down there, I kept thinking of you and Durka. I remember thinking that, if you could beat them, then I could too. I hate to say this, but you helped me a lot." 

The little monarch smiled. "Why, naturally. I am, after all, a Dominar. I need to set a good example for my subjects." 

"Whatever you say, Sparky." John looked over the room. Gilina's body was laid out on a stretcher. Someone - most likely Zhaan - had removed her jumpsuit and replaced it with a Peacekeeper dress uniform similar to Aeryn's. Her lifeless hands were placed together on her stomach, and she held a small bouquet of dried flowers. The contrast between the uniform and the flowers was oddly appropriate. He walked toward Gilina's corpse without even realizing it. The tech's eyes were closed. She looked like she was asleep, except that her skin was as white as alabaster. No sign of her fatal wound showed. John ran a finger down her cheek. 

He felt D'Argo's hand on his shoulder. "She may not have been a warrior, but she had the courage of one," the Luxan observed. The two men took a step back. Chiana and Rygel positioned themselves on the other side of Gilina's body. Aeryn stood at Gilina's feet, and Zhaan stood at the corpse's head, immediately to John's right. 

"Let us begin," the priestess said gently. "We are here today to honor a friend who made the ultimate sacrifice. While it is not the custom of Gilina Renaez' people to honor their fallen comrades, I am sure that her spirit will appreciate our gesture today. In the short time that we knew her, we all recognized her valor and loyalty to those that she cared about." Zhaan picked up a bottle from the table, opened it, and anointed Gilina's head with some kind of fragrant oil. "Be at peace, dear Gilina. May the Goddess welcome you back into her arms, and may your soul be reborn into a better life." The priestess intoned some kind of prayer in her native language that John's translator microbes couldn't handle, while simultaneously anointing the corpse in a pattern that resembled a tree. When she had finished, Zhaan turned to him and asked, "Would you like to say a few words, John?" 

He swallowed and closed his eyes. He didn't want to, but he was the reason that they were doing this funeral. John cleared his throat and looked down at the still form of the girl that had loved him. "Gilina was... unique. I didn't know her for very long, but it seemed like we had known each other forever. Humans have a saying, 'no greater love has he that gives up his life for his friends.'" He paused as he felt his eyes starting to tear up again, and wiped them away. "Gilina had the courage to face down that monster for my sake. I owe her my life, and I'll never forget that. The funny thing is, I couldn't even tell her what she wanted to hear. I suppose that's something else that I won't forget, either." 

"She knew," Chiana chimed in. "She was a smart girl, she figured it out. But she still risked her life to help us." 

"Yeah," John agreed. He stepped forward and stroked her hair again. "Thanks, Gilina. I'll never forget you." He bent over and kissed her cold lips one last time, then stepped back. 

Zhaan nodded to Aeryn, and the dark-haired woman cleared her throat. "As the ranking Peacekeeper officer on board this vessel, I am awarding Technician Gilina Renaez with the Star Cluster for service above and beyond the call of duty." She stepped forward and pinned a small medal made up of three stars on Gilina's collar. Aeryn saluted smartly, and returned to her place. 

"Where'd she find the medal?" Crichton whispered to D'Argo. 

"It was in Rygel's stash. Pilot and I distracted him while Chiana swiped it." 

"You're kidding!" A disgraced officer awarding a stolen medal to a traitorous technician who had helped a condemned prisoner escape. He chuckled at the irony of the whole situation. 

Rygel hovered in closer to Gilina's body and examined the medal. He opened his mouth to complain, but Chiana was ready. The girl stuffed a wad of cloth in the Hynerian's mouth, effectively gagging him. "Keep quiet, Froggie. You didn't need it anyway." 

Zhaan interrupted their sidebar. "D'Argo, if you're ready, it's time to return her to the stars, from which we all are born." He nodded, and took Zhaan's place at the top of the stretcher as he and Chiana prepared to carry Gilina to the airlock. 

"Wait a microt," John asked. D'Argo and Chiana paused. He reached down and kissed Gilina one last time. "Goodbye, Gilina. Forgive me." He stepped back and nodded to D'Argo. They lifted the stretcher and carried her away from the terrace in silence. Rygel followed them, probably to take back the medal that had been stolen from him. John's eyes were tearing up yet again as he watched them go. He felt Aeryn step next to him and take his hand. 

Zhaan stood to the other side of him. "Last night after I left you, I came up here to meditate. Gilina's spirit appeared to me and gave me a message for you. She said that you have to forgive yourself, John. Death was her choice. She wants you live, to move on and be happy. That was her final wish for you." 

A single tear ran down his cheek. He took Zhaan's hand in his free hand. He was linked to Aeryn and Zhaan physically this time. "I don't think I'll ever be happy again. I think right now, I'll just settle for peace." 

"It is my profoundest wish for you," Zhaan answered. "For all of us." She released John's hand, then leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Be at peace, John." 

"Attention," Pilot's urgent voice interrupted. "The command carrier has moved to within thermal imaging range of Moya. I am powering down all systems except for life support. Everyone report to Command immediately." 

There would be no peace today, not while Crais and Scorpius were out there hunting him. "We're on our way, Pilot," he answered. 

Aeryn let go of his hand. "Are you all right, John?" she asked. 

He thought for a moment. "Yeah, I'll live," he joked. Zhaan and Aeryn walked out of the terrace. "I'll be there in a microt." He looked out into the asteroid field one last time and sent a final message._ I loved you, Gilina_... 

* * *

   [1]: http://www.amfcse.org/content/thespace.htm
   [2]: http://www.amfcse.org/



End file.
